Fifty Shames of Earl Grey: A Parody

jerk-faced jerk-face

he takes control of the controls like the controlling man he is.

there’s one bone I’d like to have in my body, and it’s attached to Mr. Earl Grey . . .

“I was worried about you,” she says.

“Why?” I ask. Because you sent me to Grandma’s house when you knew the whole time there was a big bad wolf?

“Would you like a tour of the building? Perhaps a peek inside my secret sex dungeon?”

“I’m Edward Cullen. I mean, ‘Earl Grey.’ Have a seat?”

HOLY MOTHER EFFING SPARKLY VAMPIRES IS HE HOT.

I’m going to murder her, if Beyoncé doesn’t kill me first.

My phone buzzes—it’s a text message from Beyoncé, warning me to keep my hands off her man. Whatever.

This guy could be a hundred years old or five. Although they wouldn’t let a five-year-old run a company the size of the Earl Grey